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A muscle ticks in his jaw. He seems to be displeased.
That’s not good, right? Or is it? Ugh, why do I care if he’s pleased or not?
I remain on the sidewalk.
Sullivan also remains motionless.
Our gazes meet over the hood of the car.
His eyes are dark. Like spilled ink on a white page. His mouth slightly opens and then snaps shut as he swallows hard enough I see the movement of his Adam’s apple.
I lift my chin, steadying myself even as my heart wobbles.
Finally, he rounds the car.
Richard is in tweed today. Surprise, surprise. The crisp button-down looks luxurious. As does the trousers perfectly tailored to his height. Pink gemstones catch the sunlight and lure my attention to his wrist. I’m starting to get used to that garish watch. Especially now that I know it’s from his niece.
He extends his phone to me.
Can I speak to you? Privately?
I nod and follow him down the sidewalk.
Footage of my sister’s crash leaked yesterday. I’ll need to make our relationship public to bury it. Is that okay with you?
Again, I’m at a loss for words. The man who held Henry’s freedom over my head last week is not the same guy standing here, asking if I’m comfortable going public with our fake relationship.
Isn’t that what I agreed to do?
This is more than a private visit with my sister. Your name will be in the press. People will drag your past to the light and dissect it for the world to see. From now on, you’ll forever be associated with me.
That sounds dire. But it’s not the public that scares me. It’s my family finding out on an interview that I’m dating Richard Sullivan.
Dejonae will kill me.
I shudder at the thought.
Sullivan is waiting for an answer, so I bury my unease as deep in my subconscious as I can and focus on the matter at hand.
Okay.
He gives me an assessing look, like I should be more fearful of my name being exposed to the world, but what does he expect? I’m a model and a social media influencer. I’m already in the public eye and I’m used to the trolls who clamor out of their parents’ basements to hate on me.
I type on my phone.Don’t worry. I’ll earn my keep.
He frowns.
I smile.
He frowns harder.
I tilt my head, my smile slipping.
What does he want me to say?
He’s my boss, and I’m glad he’s started making demands.
In fact, I now understand why I’ve been so on edge since Sullivan went radio-silent last week. What Henry and I did in the parking lot at the wedding was wrong. Sullivan threatening Henry so I could sign his contract was objectively wrong too, but I agreed to it. I gave my word and, for all this while, it felt like I stillowedhim. Like I left something unfinished.
